


The Sun and The Moon

by Jean Genie (Su_Abeille)



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Consensual Kink, Consensual Violence, Devotion, F/M, FIx It, Fluff, Gore, Gothic Romance, One Shot, Romance, Season 3 AU, Season 3 Redo, Season 3 RetCon, Shout out to Game of Thrones, Smut, Violence, Wedding, Werewolf, Werewolf Kink, Witches, excessive amounts of jewels, gothic horror, victorian horror, victorian romance, wedding fic, wolf loyalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6628774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Abeille/pseuds/Jean%20Genie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel and a one shot for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/351620">The Lovers series, my season 3 rewrite,</a> but can be read on their own.     </p><p><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6628774/chapters/15168202">Wedding</a> - Ethan and Vanessa's wedding, veiled in pristine white then stained with blood. (Rated E)</p><p><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6628774/chapters/15951589">Diamonds and Pearls</a> - Ethan can not stop giving his deity jewels, even when she insists it's too much.  (Rated T)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wedding

The wedding was a small affair, held in Sir Malcolm’s parlour in the early afternoon. It was only the group that had come to feel like a family. Seeing Vanessa veiled in frothy white, pure and shining, made Ethan’s breath hitch in his chest, his throat tight with emotions. This moment seemed dream like, impossible while being so very real at the same time. Her tiny hand was placed in his and she smiled with pure joy, cheeks flushed under the virginal gauzy silk. Ethan winked at her, barely concealing his elation. As they went through this ceremony, Vanessa squeezed his hand tightly. He couldn’t help stealing glances over at his angelic bride.

As soon as the ceremony was finished, the men around them took turns kissing Vanessa’s bright cheeks and heartily shaking Ethan’s hand. The two did not linger afterwards though. Both of them were impatient for the other, for the solitude that they had planned for the other ceremony they were to perform together that night.

They made it out to the moors as twilight was settling, Ethan still in his best suit and Vanessa swathed in white silk. He swooped her up in his arms much to her delight and carried her over the threshold as she giggled like a delighted child.

Setting her down inside, he pulled her close. She rested her hands on his lapels, ducking under his gaze. They were quiet in this moment, allowing the feeling of the other’s closeness to hum through them. The last weak rays of light stole out of the room, and finally their eyes met.

It was time for the other ceremony that would bind them together.

She pulled away from him to watch as the transformation began, watched as her gallant groom changed into the beast that lived within him always. She waited until the yellow eyes of the wolf focused on her. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, and then it began.

The wolf was off, running out into the darkness of the open moors. Vanessa followed, rushing just paces behind her wolf. They ran together through the grass, washed silver by the light of full moon. She watched as her beautiful predator scented the air, switching directions suddenly once he knew where the prey was. Vanessa could feel her own darkness eclipsing her now, and her natural predatory instincts took over as she ran through the mud, the ivory silk of her wedding gown becoming dirty and wet around her feet. She gathered the soiled silk up into her arms to allow her strides to be longer and quicker.

Ethan began to run faster now that he had the prey in his sight, loping over the ridges and valleys. Vanessa was close on his heels, fueled by her own blood lust, feeling every part of her thrumming, unified with her dark beast in this moment. Her breath was ragged and sharp, her corset painfully tight against her straining lungs, but she would not be stopped.

Suddenly Ethan froze, holding out his arm to stay her. Over on the far ridge was a large stag, tall and hulking, its antlers outlined against the dark sky like trees in the night. The wolf and its mate hunched down in the cover of the grass together, eyes fixed on their prey, their breaths ragged. Ethan began to growl low in his chest, clawing at the ground in anticipation. All of his viciousness coiled like this made Vanessa’s body tight with arousal. She knew he could sense it, knew it was fueling his arousal as well. He turned and their eyes met much as they had in the parlour earlier that day. This was the union of their darkness, and the ceremony must be completed.

Silently and with deadly speed, Ethan leapt forward, darting towards the stag so quickly that it didn’t sense the oncoming danger. With one swipe, he tore out the stag’s throat. It made a loud strangled cry of agony and then fell to its side. Ethan stood over the fallen body and let out a victorious roar.

Vanessa stood and went forward then, shoulders back, chin high, a queen walking to her consort. Ethan fell to his knees as he watched her coming to him. Once she stood in front of him with their eyes locked, he reached out and gutted the stag open with his deadly claws, the blood and innards sliding out, steaming in the cold of the night.

Vanessa knelt down in this sanguine stream, still holding the wolf’s gaze. Ethan’s breath was heaving now, pulling in the scent of the blood and his mate’s arousal, causing him to lean towards her, never breaking her challenging gaze. He was waiting to see what she would do with his gift.

She reached into the body of the stag, dug deep into it. The blood poured over the pristine purity of her wedding gown, staining it a deep crimson. She was up to her elbows in all this gore, heady on the coppery scent of the blood, overwhelmed with a deep hunger.

Finally her hands found their prize, the stag’s heart still hot with the blood it had been beating through it just moments before. She gripped it and pulled it violently out of the body of the animal to hold it in her tiny hands before them. Ethan watched and waited.

This was a gift that her mate had presented her with and she was going to honor the sacredness of it, she was going to take in the power that it held. She leaned forward and with her sharp teeth, bit into it and swallowed a mouthful of the hot thick blood, squeezing it out of the heart and into her.

Once she had drank she presented the heart to her wolf, the blood dripping from her lips. With a gentleness that only she knew he possessed in this form, he reached out the same hand that had torn the stag’s throat out to tenderly wrap around her slim wrist, pulling the heart to him and sinking his sharp canines into it. Never dropping her gaze, he too drank, then bit off a piece of the muscle, greedily devouring it.

The ceremony was not finished yet. Vanessa jumped forward onto Ethan, knocking the heart from his hands so that he held her instead. She hissed and bared her teeth at him and he growled in answer, but still allowed her to straddle him, letting her blood soaked dress cover them both. She pulled his hair to force his face up to hers and used her other hand to open the hinge of his jaw. She moved her mouth to his, as if to kiss him, but rather ran her tongue along the tip of his sharp canine, slicing it open and letting her blood drip into his mouth.

This sent the beast into a frenzy. He flipped her over onto her back hard, knocking the breath from her, and before she could orient herself, he was tearing through his clothes then slashing through the snowy whiteness of her underthings with his bloody claws. He pushed her back against the carnage of his trophy and thrust deep into her. They fucked fast and violently, her nails clawing his bare arms, his teeth sunk into her neck. They grunted and screamed and roared through their mutual climax, the blood making their bodies slick against each other. They picked up their rhythm again almost instantly, fucking through the climax to another and another.

When they finally collapsed against the stag, exhausted, they clung to each other, laboring for breath, warmed by the hot blood and their exertions. In the safety of their union, made sacred by this shared violence, they fell into united dreams, soaked in beautiful gore.

When Ethan came back to himself, the first light of dawn was showing. He was laying over Vanessa, his body keeping her warm now that the blood had cooled. He gently, regretfully, pulled himself away from her, resting back on his knees as he cleared his still cloudy mind.

He looked at his bride before him, illuminated by the coming dawn. She lay against the stag that he had killed for her, her once pristine wedding gown stained crimson with blood, torn open down the front, the dirty skirt pulled up around her waist exposing her to his eyes. He wanted to take her again in that moment, to fuck her into wakefulness, but he knew that she needed to be cared for after last night’s exertions.

He gathered his bloody bride in his arms, and clothed only in the blood of his kill, carried her back home to live their lives as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a sex thing? Is it her becoming powerful through contact with his darkness? Is it a metaphor for breaking the hymen and staining the sheets on the wedding night? IDK, man, IDK.


	2. Diamonds and Pearls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan can not stop giving his deity jewels, even when she insists it's too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been listening to a lot of Prince lately, and this song inspired me to write about a worshipful man buying the woman he loved pure, shining tokens of his love. It also helps that apparently Ethan's father owns a whole mountain range so Ethan has the money to do this and would want to spend his father's money like this.

Eventually she had to tell him that he was not allowed to buy her any more jewels. For months, he had been constantly surprising her with diamonds and pearls; ropes upon ropes of pearls, an intricate diamond necklace that wrapped around her throat and across her collarbones, beautifully designed silver rings with carved flowers blossoming around pearls, earbobs of every size, ranging from showers of tiny diamonds that flashed and danced about her face to large diamond lavaliers that were so heavy they pulled on her earlobe, like he did to that soft bit of her flesh with his teeth. 

He presented her with these gifts at the most mundane moments, when they were out walking through the park, in the carriage on the way home, as she was about to fall asleep. Suddenly he was pulling out velvet boxes from his pockets or under her pillow, she was finding them in cupboards or on the mantelpiece. 

He was so blissfully happy to give her these symbols of his affection. She never asked for them nor expected them. Each time he gave her one, she’d chided him, telling him it was too much, but seeing how delighted he was to give her each item, she knew that it was falling on deaf ears. 

It was when he gave her the ring with a square cut diamond that was almost the size of her thumb that she had to make him stop. The stone was exquisite, one of the most beautiful things that she’d ever worn, but she knew that it had to be so rare that it must be worth a sum beyond imagination. This was becoming an expensive addiction for him. She’d slipped the ring on her finger, took his face in her hands to kiss him very sweetly then told him in the most loving but firm tone that this was the last diamond he was to give her. When he promised with a cheeky grin that he would only give her pearls from then on, she’d laughed and shook her head. Not even pearls, my love, she said. He agreed, but she knew from the mischievous glint in his eyes that he was taking this as a challenge.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that in the following weeks he switched to buying her gloves, hats, stockings, slippers, tiny bags, lingerie, robes, corsets, and any possible accourtamont that a lady could have. These were from the finest stores in Paris, all made with painstaking detail out of the most luxurious materials possible. Again with that expression of pure joy, he presented them to her. It was so hard to say no to that face, his open smile, his eyes shining as he watched her folding back thin tissue paper to reveal the opulent items hidden within. She believed this to be a much more reasonable addiction, and happily accepted these little gifts, wearing them proudly. As with the jewelry, he watched her wear these items with wonderment, like a supplicant watching his divine creature accepting his symbol of worship. She should have known him well enough by then, though, to know he’d never settle for less than the those shining jewels.

He tried again to tempt her, little things like diamond hairpins, a small pearl broach, a filigree ring with tiny stones along it. She knew she needed to be firm with him on this. She kissed him and with a smile told him, no, my love, not even these. Again that spark was in his eyes, and she knew that this was not the end of it.

One day he insisted that she go with him on an adventure, a surprise. This was something he often did, much to her delight. They got into the carriage and went far out of London, to where there was nothing around them but open fields. She looked out over the vista, taking in all this beautifully greenery and missing the open country that she’d grown up in. When she turned to face him he had a box resting in his hands.

She gave him a suspicious look at the sight of this. He swore on his life that this was not jewelry, that it was a gift he’d had especially made for her. 

She opened the box to reveal a beautiful gun, a revolver like his. It had been polished to such a high shine that it was as if it was made of mirrors and flashes of light. She was in awe as she picked it up, to study it closer. The weight and feel of this beautiful weapon in her hand was so perfect, it felt like it was made for her. She realized that, yes, that was exactly what he’d done, he had had it designed to fit her small hand. Before she could ask him how he knew the exact size, he took her free hand and pressed their palms together, and he outlined exactly the size of her hand against his. He knew her body so well, he’d spent so many hours studying it, measuring it against his own, that he was able to conjure up the exact size from memory. 

She held the gun aloft and looked down the barrel, aiming it as he had taught her. He pulled out a box of bullets for her to load the gun. She saw arousal darkening his eyes as she did this so delicately and proficiently, as she held this weapon in her long elegant fingers. Her face took on its beautiful predatory shadow as she raised the gun and shot six bullets into a tree 40 yards away, each hitting the exact same target. 

It was a beautiful gift, one that she never knew she wanted until she held it in her hands. She kissed him and thanked him and kissed him again. He cupped her face in his hands and said that nothing he could give her would ever match how beautiful she was, but he would spend his life trying. What could she have said to this, to a man who loved her this much. She couldn’t keep him from this joy, could she.

When she look closer at the gun, though, she realized the trick he was playing on her. It had been intricately and beautifully carved with swirls and embellishments. As he eyes played over these details, she realized there was a small diamond placed in trigger, right where he finger would pull. When their eyes met, his were dancing with delight at what he’d been able to do. It’s not jewelry, he’d insisted. He knew he had her. She loved this gift too much to stop him from giving it to her. He’d figured out a way to still give her diamonds. 

She thought this was to be the end of it, but of course he had not gotten his way completely. He laid in bed one night, watching her pull her brush through her hair over and over, in the ritual that she had done almost every night of her life. He watched her sitting at her walnut dressing table in her long peignoir, a beautiful silk robe he’d bought for her, an item of clothing that was specifically meant to be worn when a woman was brushing her hair. He always observed her doing this, falling into the same silent contemplation that came over her while she did, both watching as her hair become as smooth as polished mahogany. The quiet intimacy of it was a reminder to both of them how close they were now, how beautifully intertwined their lives were. 

He quietly got out of bed then, and went to her, kneeling down next to her. In a soft voice, he told her to open the drawer of the table. She gave him that same suspicious look, knowing that he had planned something again.

Resting on the red velvet inside of the drawer she found a beautiful silver brush and mirror set, with detailed reliefs on the back of each. Her hand actually trembled slightly when she lifted the brush up, and saw what it had on it. In deep relief in the silver was a beautiful curving scorpion, its deadly tail arching around the handle so the stinger rested against the heel of her hand. She placed it gently on the table in front of her and then picked up the mirror to look at it closely. It had a large, vicious looking wolf on it, curling up with its hackles raised, its eyes fixed skyward. Then she realized the crafty trick. The wolf was baying up at a moon made out of a large, perfect pearl, shining against the silver. 

She placed the mirror next to the brush and then turned to him. Again he knew. He knew the exact size of her palm to make these two pieces rest perfectly in her hands, just as he had with the gun. It wasn’t just that though. He knew how important this nightly ritual was to her, about what it meant to her to be able to care of herself like this, to look in the mirror and to remind herself of what she really was. He knew that she would not be able to say no to this beautiful gift.

When she finally looked down at him, there was no mischievousness in his eyes, just the bright purity of his love for her. She knew then why he had to do this. He needed to give her things that were made just for her, just as he was. He wanted her surrounded by beautiful, precious things, because that was what she was for him. He needed to fetch her all of the most beautiful things to show her, himself, the world, that she was even more beautiful than these things in comparison. He would not be stopped from doing this, he could not deny himself the joy of seeing her so adorned. 

She’d taken his face in her hands then and smiled just as lovingly at him as he was at her. Her beautiful, loyal wolf needed to bring her these trinkets. It had been unconsciously cruel of her to ask him to stop, for it was part of his nature towards her. She realized that he must not be chided for this, rather rewarded.

The next night she’d gone up to their bedroom alone, telling him he must wait. She could hear him impatiently waiting downstairs, pacing and fidgeting. When her voice floated down that he could come to bed now, he raced up the stairs two at a time.

In the bedroom, there was a low fire in the fireplace and candles lit all around the room. She was wearing a loose silk robe, covering her from neck to ankles. She took his hand and lead him in, sitting him facing her on the bench next to her dressing table, resting her fingers on his shoulders and leaning in to tell him in a whisper that she had a gift for him.

She took a few steps back from him and slowly undid the belt of her robe, dropping it to the floor. She was nude, draped in the diamonds and pearls he’d bought her. 

Diamond hair pins glinted like stars in the black of her hair. Heavy diamonds hung from her ears, gleaming in the candlelight. Every finger had rings on them, pearls shining in silver, and the thumb sized diamond like the North Star, flashing brightest. She wore the intricate diamond necklace about her long, slim throat, her chin high like a noble queen. The ropes of pearls, so many of them, tangled, danced over her breasts, rolling over them as she moved, hanging down to her smooth stomach. He watched those pearls as they slid languidly over her curves, and the heat of his gaze, combined with the feel of the cool smooth caress of the pearls made her flush. 

She gently asked why always diamonds and pearls, and he answered as one in a trance that they were the only thing as rare and radiant as her. Then he stood very slowly, approaching her with reverence, completely enraptured by this vision. He reach out a tentative hand, sliding down one of the strings of pearls, following it down to where it hung just below her belly. He stopped then, right before touching her where she most wanted to be touched, and smiled at her, a blessed smile, as pure as his love for her. 

Thank you, he said, thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll let your mind do what it will with the idea of them making love with these pearls pressed between their bodies, and the diamonds on her hands.
> 
> This is set in the [The Lovers series AU.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/351620) There is a prequel to this series called [Sleeping Beauty](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5359436) as well as a sequel called [Wedding.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6628774/chapters/15168202) There are also two short stories set in the universe called [Diamonds and Pearls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6628774/chapters/15951589) and [Watching a Beauty Woman Laugh,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6899806) followed by a two part story called [Grief.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7362892) The series ends with [Grandpa.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7332376)


End file.
